


An Evenin' Alone, Finally

by consult_the_potato



Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: AFAB reader - Freeform, F/M, established-ish relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-30
Updated: 2019-08-30
Packaged: 2020-10-03 19:00:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,370
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20457908
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/consult_the_potato/pseuds/consult_the_potato
Summary: “What’cha lookin’ at me like that for?” The man ahead of you asks, his face rosey and his brow quirked. His hair is mussed from the few times he’s run his fingers through it between drinks, and something about the way the light hits him frames him just right.You shrug nonchalantly as you rest your cheek against your palm, definitely smushing your cheek and not helping your own disheveled disposition as you smile at him.Arthur chuckles,reaching over to push some hair behind your ear (and you blame only the alcohol for the flip your stomach gives when he leans closer). “Oh sure; talk my ear off half the ride here, an’ go quiet after a li’l liquor gets in you?” He teases, scooting just close enough for his leg to brush against yours.





	An Evenin' Alone, Finally

You’re definitely over it by the time the gang gets too testy with one another during _yet another_ too-hot afternoon in Horseshoe Overlook. So, when Arthur comes to you with that heavy-footed gait of his and the sharp look that immediately softens once you’re within arms reach, you know he’s been pushed to the edge as well. 

“Y’wanna get out of here?” Arthur asks, his voice low and not without that bit of gravel that insinuates he needs to leave whether or not you agree. So you nod, and he nods with you as he takes your wrist in his hand, leading you toward his horse. You veer only slightly, to rub the flat nose of your own mustang. Seems the heat (and constant arguing) may have him just slightly annoyed, too.

Arthur cocks a brow at you, resting his hands at his belt as he watches on. “Are you takin’ your own and leaving me alone to my ride?” The edge of his voice has something tinged to it, like he’s almost worried you’re upset with him as well, but the smile you offer back up at the man eases the tension in his shoulders. _I’d never let you ride alone, silly man,_ and a low chuckle escapes him, the first you’ve heard in the past few nights. “Then let’s get. Wanna be in Valentine before sundown.” Arthur says lightly, hoisting himself onto his mare and reaching to wrap his fingers around your forearm, a gesture which you return. It takes little work on his end, and you can feel the sinewy muscle pulling taut in his arm as he hoists you up onto the mare, sitting just in front of him. You settle in the saddle, heat budding in your cheeks when you feel his hips slightly crooked against your backside. It’s not...abnormal, to be like this with him. In the last few months, the two of you have grown close (_more_ than close, by Karen and Mary-Beth’s standards), but the sensation of Arthur so close to you is still enough to make you flush. You glance back at him and he catches your eye, a smirk at his lips as he sees your flushed cheeks. As you turn back around, you feel the chuckle rumble through his chest, a puff of air escaping near your ear that makes you shudder. You almost think he does it on purpose, though you’d nary an idea why. 

He lets out a low murmur as he spurs his horse forward and she takes the route out of camp, past the trees onto the unsuspecting dirt path toward town. When you’re away from camp, you sigh and rest back against him, grateful for the broad chest against your back as you watch the beating sun finally begin to set. You two stay in quiet like that, with the occasional mumble from Arthur to the horse below you, until you cross the tracks to Valentine. Your nose wrinkles at the scent of the little farm town, and Arthur grumbles something about the town being nothing but pigshit and fools, making you laugh.

You hear the smile in his voice as he pulls his horse toward the saloon, “Oh, you’re awake? Thought you’d gone ‘n fell asleep on me. Wouldn’t be the first time.” He teases, the knuckles of the hand holding to his horse’s rein brushing against your middle as he spurs the creature to the hitch post. Arthur gives you a playful nudge as you argue that you’ve _been awake all along, thank you very much,_ and he rolls his eyes with that damned smirk that makes your chest warm. But he just laughs as he hops down from the horse, hitching her up. Once he’s pleased with the reins, he steps to her side, reaching to help you down. You lean into his arms, his fingertips gentle and almost-ticklish against your ribs as he helps you down to your feet. 

“Now I only brought’ya into town because I like’ya, and you _weren’t_ gettin’ on my nerves like everyone else today. Do I need to kick you back to camp, or you gonna let us drink in peace?” The threat Arthur gives is melted away by the smirk curling at his lip, and you shake your head in blessing to the powers-that-be that brought a man with a sense of humor into your life. It doesn’t hurt that he’s also..well, damn gorgeous. You jokingly punch at his arm, glancing to be sure his mare is hitched before looping your arm into his and tugging him toward the swinging doors of the saloon.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The first few shots of whiskey go down easy for the both of you, Arthur now nursing a beer while you lean heavily against the wooden table, a lazy smirk on your face. 

“What’cha lookin’ at me like that for?” The man ahead of you asks, his face rosey and his brow quirked. His hair is mussed from the few times he’s run his fingers through it between drinks, and something about the way the light hits him frames him _just_ right. You shrug nonchalantly as you rest your cheek against your palm, definitely smushing your cheek and absolutely _not_ helping your own disheveled disposition as you smile at him. He chuckles, reaching over to push some hair behind your ear (and you blame only the alcohol for the flip your stomach gives when he leans closer). “Oh sure; talk my ear off half the ride here, an’ go quiet after a li’l liquor gets in you?” He teases, scooting just close enough for his leg to brush against yours. 

You feel rather than see the red of your cheeks, hoping he doesn’t question it too much. _Maybe I just needed some quiet,_ you argue, proud that your speech is only a little slurred, because damn if you can’t kinda hold your liquor. Arthur grunts in agreement, raising his bottle in your direction, “Y’could say that again. Damn camp’s gotten too loud the past couple days, if you ask me; I can’t even _sleep_ in that place.” Arthur huffs the words, shaking his head as he throws back another swig of his drink. You nod, mumbling that you haven’t been able to get a moment to yourself either, _not with Mary-Beth and Tilly getting so irate with Miss Grimshaw._

Arthur seems to get an idea then, both brows quirking up as he looks at you. “Hey, we don’t _have_ to go back to camp t’night,” He starts, his voice growing slightly lower and more slurred. He leans a little more into you, like he’s trying to fill you in on a plan for the next robbery without anyone else hearing. When you look at him curiously, he elaborates. “I’ve got enough cash for...well, for a room here. Tonight. I..You can tell me no, but if you’d be so _inclined_, you’re welcome t’join me. ‘M awful tired,” He nudges his arm against yours accidentally, a wide yawn slipping in at the end of his words to prove his point. Your stammer, just a little. The two of you have shared a sleeping area before, sure; it’s the nature of the beast when it comes to being...well, nomadic, as you are, but the implication of the both of you sleeping in a bed together while feeling the affects of the alcohol definitely feels scandalous.

You feel your throat bob as you meet his eye again. There really isn’t any better offer than staying out of camp for the night, and with such good company, how could you refuse? When you nod, he smiles warmly, finishing up the rest of his bottle and moving to slide out of his chair. You go to the bar behind him as he pays for the room, the bartender there eyeing the both of you warily before motioning up the stairs. You smile politely at the man, even with the almost soured look in his eye. Arthur glances back to you, pointing his jaw toward the stairs. You sway just slightly, moving to lean against the rail of the stairwell as you follow the outlaw up to your shared room for the evening. He only stumbles on his feet twice on the way to the door.

Once behind the closed door of the room, the air changes. Arthur turns his back on you, moving to the farther side of the room to start tugging at the collar of his shirt. Face burning, you follow his lead, turning your back to him as you bite into your bottom lip and work at the few buttons of your own bodice. Ahead of you is a floor-length mirror that you almost avoid looking in, you can see Arthur working at his own shirt in the reflection. The alcohol warming your belly boldens you, and you bite a little more into your lip as it betrays you in a smile, eyeing his form appreciatively through the mirror. Stil, cheeks pink, you look down at yourself and continue at the buttons of your bodice.

When you glance into the mirror again, you’ve made progress in your work. The thin petticoat has been placed beside the mirror, and you’re working on (and swearing at) the tiny buttons around your collar. You hear Arthur shuffle from his place and you could _swear_ you saw his head turn towards you in the reflection, but he whistles some soft tune as he removes his gunbelt, placing it on an end table on his side of the room. You, by some miracle, get the damned buttons undone and pull away at the dress, sighing gratefully when you finally emerge in just your slip.

It’s then you see it; the flash of hair and the smirk of someone who knows better. Arthur Morgan, cheeks pink and chest boldened from drinking, definitely eyeing you from the reflection in the mirror. “Well,” He says low, his baritone voice sounding amused as he oh-so-casually turns slightly to your direction. It’s now you can see his own shirt half-open, neck and chest tinged slightly red from what you _think_ is the alcohol, “I hope it’s alright, w-we, ah...only got one bed.” He says, rubbing the back of his neck. His false shyness doesn’t quite fool you, catching the edge of a smirk at the edge of his mouth. You roll your eyes, blushing yourself. _It ain’t the first time, Arthur,_ you remind lightly, voice softened as you move toward the mattress. It’s small, but definitely more room than Arthur’s cot in camp. You sit at the edge of the bed, leaning down to pull away your shoes, and the brunette chuckles as he follows in your stead, sitting on the edge of his side to take off his boots. 

“Sure, but..you look as stunnin’ as ever like that, princess.” Arthur uses the nickname playfully, but the words leaving him are warm, filling your chest. You shake your head, the smile growing on your face, teasing, _you only got me out of camp t’ try and make a move on me?_

“Try?!” Arthur says with a laugh in his throat. The bed creaks as he turns toward you, his rough palm coming to rest on your arm near the sleeve of your slip, “Been _tryin’_ all week, thought the way I could get more obvious was t’be in a locked room wit’you.” He grins at you, his eyes bright. You laugh in return, turning to face him more as your own hands come to rest at his chest. 

“With camp so...well, the way it is,” He almost grimaces, but with your palms at his chest you would swear his cheeks are tinged more pink, “I haven’t been able to think myself, let alone get any time with you. Been, ah… Missin’ you, princess.” Arthur looks at you from under his lashes, his lips left slightly parted after his admission. You nibble at your own lip, catching his gaze before watching his eyes shift over your form. Heart pattering quicker, you scoot closer to him on the bed, your knees touching his as his eyes graze down your skin. His thumb brushes against the sleeve of your slip, his warm palm sliding down your arm before slotting itself against your waist, his voice lower now. “Missin’ you something _fierce,_ darlin’.” 

You move first, flushing as you settle yourself into his lap to press a chaste kiss to his lips, then another. He’s tense when your hips fit down against his, the hand at your waist gripping just a little firmer before he lets himself relax into the feeling. He leans closer to you, his own kisses more languid at your lips as his other hand slides up your outer thigh, slow fingertips coming to finally rest at the edge of your ribs. 

The liplocks between you grow more fervent the closer you curl into him. Hands that were previously resting at his chest now move toward his hair, your arms sliding neatly around his neck as he pushes his chest up to fit against yours. You remind yourself that this man is an outlaw, by no means sweet-tempered or patient, but this man, here? Entirely changed, and deliciously so. The Arthur Morgan beneath your hips is tender, _wanting._

Some might even say desperate. 

Arthur’s already hard when you move against his hips, gasping at the sensation against the fabric of his jeans. You shift again, rolling against him just so, and this time it wrenches a moan from those slightly-chapped lips, his eyes fluttering closed. His hands, however, stay alert and on the move, his palm slow to rise to the supple heat of your breast through your slip, the gasp that escapes you muffled against his lips. Arthur wordlessly demands this attention, his lips working against your own as his rough fingertips brush barely over the fabric. He’s the one grinding against your hips this time, the stiffness stuck at the hilt of one thigh rutting against your skin as you straddle him, the fabric of your sleepclothes covering your own desperation. 

“Seems you’ve missed me, too.” Arthur says low, his voice adopting an edge of harshness as his lips move to your neck, then your shoulder. His teeth leave light marks on the skin there, encouraged by the quiet moans that escape you with every new bite. You nod as an answer, whimpering that you have missed him so much, Arthur--please, and he rewards you with his hand leaving your waist to favor the spot between your legs, causing another low moan to slip from your lips. Arthur chuckles, the sound rumbling against your middle as his fingers circle at your heat. He knows just how to touch you, how to make you desperate, and the thought of him learning these behaviors almost fills you with jealousy. You’re flushed, embarrassed at the feeling of his digits sliding against you with no resistance. Time has made you both impatient, already too desperate to tease as he slips one finger easily in. 

Arthur groans at the sensation, his gaze heated as he watches you roll your hips in time with his hand. He adds a second, and later a third finger. He’s flushed too, sweat beginning to bead on his brow under your body heat as you rut against his hand. You cover your mouth, desperate to muffle the embarrassing sounds that escape you, but his free hand catches your wrist to pull it away. 

“Lemme hear it, darlin’.” 

Your body shivers at his voice, already growing close as he works at you with just his fingers. He seems to know though, carefully pulling his hand away with a low grunt as he shifts both hands to his own waistband. He makes fast work of the button and fly, hissing through his teeth at the blessing of friction finding his cock. He strokes himself unceremoniously a few times before you catch his mouth in a kiss again, nipping at his bottom lip as he works himself. Arthur is surprised at this kiss, hips bucking suddenly at the sensation but he quickly regains himself as his tongue pushes against your own.

His clean hand comes to rest at your hip again, not breaking the liplock as he aligns his cock with your entrance. You pull back for breath in a gasp, lifting the fabric of your slip away from your thighs for a moment to catch the sight of his cock dipping between your folds. Instead of watching him, you _feel_ him, every solid inch sliding into your heat. Your eyes fall closed, almost overwhelmed when you finally feel him come to rest at your hilt. 

You breathe through your nose, whines of his name edging their way past your lips. He gently shushes you, his forehead resting tenderly against yours as he waits, taking in the feeling. When you move your hips against his, Arthur groans, nodding as you urge him to _move._ He waits another few seconds before pulling nearly all of the way out of you and pumping back in, high moans escaping your chest with each thrust. He murmurs a low encouragement, pressing a tender kiss to the side of your temple as his hips snap quicker, and then quicker. 

He sets a hot and fast pace, the heat between you combining with the high tensions of the long-forgotten camp pushing you to fuck against him with equal fervor. Arthur’s hand comes up to his lips, a quick brush of his fingers against his tongue to wet his digits before he dips his hand between your joined bodies. His fingertips circle at your clit as his hips snap up against yours.

“C’mon, princess,” Arthur grunts, the fiery glint in his gaze driving you easily over with a moan of his name and stars behind your eyes. He moans as you ride out your orgasm, working to chase his own climax. His hips stutter as he feels you clench around him, burying his face into the crook of your neck as he pants against your shoulder, 

He moves first this time, carefully pulling himself from your embrace as he fumbles with the back pocket of his jeans. Arthur pulls a bandana into view, hastily wiping his hands with the fabric before passing it over to you with a sheepish smile. You laugh quietly, cleaning yourself as he tucks himself back into his pants, moving to himself of his shirt entirely. 

“If you want,” Arthur starts to say, his voice almost tentative with a smile as you look at him over your shoulder, “We could do this. You ‘n me, bailin’ on camp for a night or two here an’ there. They, ah, wouldn’t miss us _too_ bad.” You chuckle quietly at the idea as he settles himself back into the mattress, tossing the spent bandana to join his mussed clothes on the ground. You readjust your slip slightly before moving to join him. The idea isn’t entirely asinine, you hum in response, careful as you lay your head against his shoulder. Sleeping together, and sleeping together are definitely different things, especially with the both of you being under such high tensions lately. 

Still, despite your hesitance, he shifts and pulls you closer, an arm wrapped around your shoulders as he pulls you to rest on the expanse of his broad chest. He covers a yawn with the back of his hand, looking at you out of the corner of his eye “Jus’ a thought, princess. I..I-I enjoy any time I get t’spend with you, regardless.” Arthur murmurs, pressing a kiss to your hair as his eyes drift closed. You spend only a few more moments awake this way, watching the slight breeze coming through the leaky windowpane lift the curtain as you curl in closer to the warm man. 

Your own eyes fall closed, and you mumble, just enough for him to hear that maybe I like to spend time with you because I love you. 

And _maybe,_ if you try your damnedest, you hear him say it back in that low baritone chuckle before you drift off to your own dreams.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much for reading! I'm doing my best to get back in the saddle. c;
> 
> Send some asks, holler at me, or check out my blog at https://piningfor-pinestwins.tumblr.com/


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